


HGSS Drabbles

by Half_BloodPrincess



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble, Drabble Collection, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:27:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22271029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Half_BloodPrincess/pseuds/Half_BloodPrincess
Summary: Collection of unrelated Hermione Granger/Severus Snape drabbles
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 1
Kudos: 26





	1. Break

Hermione feels an invisible hand on the back of her neck, forcing her angry glare to redirect to the muddy ground at her feet. The same hand presses down between her shoulder blades at a hissed command to kneel. She gratefully obeys, her weary legs giving way with little conscious thought.

“Look at me, girl.” The hand tilts her chin up, and her murderous rage is transformed - transfigured - into a paralysing fear. Red eyes that are almost luminous in the darkness fix onto hers. “You were the Potter brat’s Mudblood whore,” It’s not quite a question, but she answers anyway.

“I was his  _ friend! _ ” What is meant to be a defiant shout comes out a desperate whimper, her voice cracking painfully on the second word. And, in place of the crippling rage she had imagined inciting he - it - has the temerity to laugh. A laugh that sounds surprisingly rich, and deep, and  _ sane.  _ It is nothing like the high-pitched cackle that has haunted her nightmares for months, for years.

“She is the reason Potter survived as long as he did.” Her mind reels at the familiar voice that speaks from behind her, but the invisible hand holds her chin still, and she cannot move to glimpse the face of yet another who haunts her night-terrors.

“Then by all means, kill her and be done with it,” an impatient drawl - is there no one here whose mere name does  _ not  _ inspire fear? “She is a brainless Mudblood; there is no place for her here.”

“So brainless that I beat your son in every exam we ever took,” Hermione spits, eliciting a muttered curse, and another laugh from  _ him _ \- it.

“And what spirit there is there too. I am almost tempted to keep her for myself.” The hint of amusement in his - it’s - tone doesn’t prevent Hermione from shuddering. “More the pity she’s already promised.”

“My lord, if you would rather-” offers that memorable voice.

“No, no, I could not take her from you. How could I deny this gift to my most faithful?”

“Thank you, my lord.” 

“You will keep her?”

“I will service her to your will, with your blessing, my lord.”

“She may prove difficult to turn,”

“But not impossible.”

“As you wish.” The hand holding her chin disappears, and she spins wildly, only to freeze, inches from the familiar face that matches the familiar voice. “Any words to say to your new paramour, my faithful?”

“I believe I told you, Miss Granger, that you need not fear losing your life in this war.” And then what has been said sinks into her mind, and she collapses, caught in the arms of a man she despises, a man who she is sure will keep his word. She will break.


	2. Counting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you missed the reference, Severus was mimicking the Count from Sesame Street, something which I am reliably informed I demanded of my own father as a child.

“Daddy, daddy, pwease?” The small dark haired girl had once more snuck into the potions lab, enamoured as she was with her father.

“Marcia,” the dour man greeted, carefully lifting her onto a stool at arms length from the workbench, and cauldron that rested on it. “Please what?” It was a good job that his entire focus was on his daughter, or else he would have seen the bushy head that peered around the door.

“Count for me Daddy!” The little girl giggled at the face the potions master made at her request. “You said tha’ you’d do count-count for me ‘nother day, an’ it’s ‘nother day now, Mummy said so!”

“Mummy said so, did she?” He growled lowly. “Well we’ll just see what Mummy says when she reads you the Tales of Beedle the Bard again tonight, Marcie.”

“Mummy’s readin’ Beedle-eedle again, daddy? Bu’ she said tha’ she didn’ wanna read it ‘gain!”

“Mummy changed her mind, Marcie.” He paused, a fond smirk appearing on his sallow face. “She does that a lot.”

“Count?” Marcia pleaded again, wide amber eyes open in the same puppy-dog expression that had crumpled many proud fathers.

“Fine.” Severus huffed. “What do you want me to count?”

“Banana-nana fwitters!”

“As you wish,” Severus pulled his wand, conjuring facsimiles as he spoke in the heavy accent, shucking his cloak up over his shoulders and letting it hang about him. “ _ Oooone banana fritter! Twooooo banana fritter! Threeeeee banana fritter! Fooooooour banana fritter! Five banana fritter! Ah-ah-ah-aaah! _ ”

“Daddy, daddy, again!” The small child demanded giggling, only to be met by dextrous fingers that attacked her sides, tickling her mercilessly.

“Not again, Marcie.” He smirked, and whispered into her ear. “Mummy’s hiding by the door, I think she wants to read you Beedle again.” As soon as the word Beedle had left his mouth, Marcia jumped from the stool, running to the door as fast as her little legs would carry her.

“Mummy!” She cried joyfully. “Beedle-eedle time!”

As Severus turned back to his potion, he was particularly satisfied with the resulting groan.


	3. Faith

“And you!” Hermione roared, rounding on Harry. “I cannot believe what you have done!”

Remus looked over at Severus, twitching his collar nervously before he spoke.

“Don’t you think you should stop her before she hexes him?” He asked in a low voice. Severus laughed, startling the babe in his arms into wakefulness.

“Are you insane, Lupin?” He asked derisively. “That is my wife denigrating Potter. How often do I get to enjoy a show such as this?” He paused, gently kissing the child’s forehead. “In any case, she would only start on me, and you wouldn’t want to deprive Margaret of her father, would you?” Remus smiled slightly as he looked from daughter to doting dad.

“Five Galleons says it takes three days to apologise so she’ll reverse the hexes,” he offered jovially. Severus merely smirked.

“Five Galleons says he doesn’t last the day. You don’t know how inventive she can be.” He grimaced in remembrance, absently rocking Margaret.

“How inventive  _ who _ can be, Severus?” Both men looked up, startled to see Hermione standing over them. Remus’ eyes widened comically.

“Ahh. That would be… erm… Molly… with her food, of course!” Remus stuttered. Hermione raised a single eyebrow at her husband, who smirked.

“We were just betting on your argument, dear.” He said in a tone of wry amusement.

“Well, you’d better not have bet against me,” Hermione glared. Remus snorted with laughter, and slid down his chair, tears of mirth in his eyes.

“Of course not, love. The bet was for how long it would take Potter to apologise, and to beg you to reverse the hex.” As he spoke, Harry sat up, from his previous position of lying on the floor, and Severus smiled at him genuinely. “Or hexes, as the case seems to be.” The brat had the word ‘arse’ plastered across his forehead in a lurid pink, several tentacles protruding from his face and neck, and his clothes looked like he’d just walked out of a sixties disco.

“And how long did you think, Severus?” Hermione asked, the steely glint in her eyes dissolving at her husband’s obvious good humour.

“Lupin here, bet me five galleons that it would take him three days.” Severus nodded at the man, who seemed to have given up on the chair at the sight of Harry, and was currently somewhere in the vicinity of the floor. Hermione perched on his now unoccupied chair, her gaze still attentively on Severus. “However I had more faith in your abilities. I said he wouldn’t last the day.”

Hermione smiled then, a true Cheshire-cat smile, and she leaned into her husband to peck him on the cheek.

“It’s nice to know you have faith in me, dear.”


	4. Godmother

Hermione desperately scrabbled across the floor; her hands desperately reaching for the scattered quills, parchments and books that had spilled out of her torn school bag. A snicker from behind her made her turn her head.

It was as she had expected, the two Weasleys remaining at Hogwarts were standing behind her laughing. Unfortunately, this year Ron had realised that she was, in fact, a girl, and when he had gathered the courage to ask her out had been shocked witless (if he’d had any to lose) at her steadfast refusal.

“But Hermione, it’s not as if there’s anyone else!” He had said - his entire basis of why she should date him contained in that single sentence. His entire family had, of course, sided with him, and thanks to Harry and Ginny’s budding relationship Hermione had been left completely out in the cold, resorting to helping Lavender and Parvati gain a mastery of beauty charms and transfigurations to relieve the boredom.

She scowled as she cast a simple  _ Reparo  _ on the torn bag, if it had been torn and not the recipient of a poorly-cast slicing hex. She began to roughly thrust her mountain of things into the bag, but a pale, well-manicured hand rested over hers and stopped her. She looked up into the startlingly kind grey eyes of Draco Malfoy, who soon looked away to carefully place her books into her bag.

“Books first, then it won’t rip so easily,” he admonished gently, whilst storing her parchments. A small smile graced his face as he slung her bag over his shoulder, and stood, offering his hand to Hermione. “I’ll escort you to Arithmancy,” he said, once he had pulled her to her feet. He tenderly linked arms with her, and they were turning to walk away when a spluttering sound stopped them.

“Hermione, you can’t be serious? Is  _ he  _ why you turned me down? You know he’s shagging Parkinson!” Hermione’s face hardened at Ron’s callous remarks, but she was prevented from responding by Draco.

“Don’t be dense, Weasel. Pansy and I have never been anything but good friends, just as I and Hermione are. Why would I risk my relationship with Astoria? Unlike you, I was bred with manners.” His voice was cold as ice, and he span them around as soon as he had finished speaking.

“Oi, I have manners too, you pig!” Ron shouted at their retreating backs.

“Of course you do,” Draco called back facetiously. “It’s blindingly obvious.”

Once Hermione and Draco had rounded the first corner, she took her arm from his, and folded them across her chest.

“What’s going on, Malfoy? You hate me.” Hermione accused, a single eyebrow raised. Draco paused for a few moments before speaking again.

“Did you know that Professor Snape is my Godfather?” At Hermione’s nod, he smiled self-deprecatingly. “Of course you did.” Draco leaned in close to her ear as he continued. “You see, I’ve seen the way you look at him, and more importantly I’ve seen the way he looks back. Don’t worry, it’s not obvious to anyone who doesn’t know the pair of you, but Granger? I don’t think you’d make a bad Godmother.”


	5. Like Father Like Son

“I don’t want to go!” The small boy pouted, his curly locks bobbing as he shook his head. “I don’t like the Burrow! Don’t make me go, Mommy!”

“Oh but sweetheart, they’re your family. You have to come, everybody wants to see you!” Hermione frowned at him, before she felt a hand come to rest on her shoulder. She looked up to see her husband smiling down at her.

“Go and get ready, I’ll sort Thomas out.” He offered magnanimously, and was greatly rewarded with a kiss on the cheek. The young boy in question shook his head adamantly.

“You can’t make me go, I don’t like it there.” His father squatted down next to him, and grabbed the boy round his stomach, tickling him until he burst out in giggles. “Still don’t wanna go,” Thomas complained. His father sighed.

“No, I don’t either. Mummy won’t be pleased if we don’t go though.” The elder man observed, giving the younger of the two a moment to think.

“I don’t like Mummy when she’s mad.” He said thoughtfully.

“Me either. Do you think we have to go?” The younger boy nodded resolutely.

“Don’t let Gramma Molly get me though.”

When the three of them exited the Floo at the Burrow, Hermione happily sat next to her husband, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“Why does he always do things when you tell him to?” she sighed, burying her nose into his robes.

“Like Father, like son.” He replied. “He’s a true Snape child.”


	6. Shrieking Shack

Hermione stood alone in the Shrieking Shack, eyes brimming with tears as she looked upon her former Potions Professor. She knelt gingerly in the blood that surrounded his body, and ran a soft hand over his face. She traced his brow first of all, smooth and unfurrowed as it had so rarely been in life. Next her nimble fingers moved to his eyes, closing the lids gently over the orbs that had once been so full of life. His cheekbones next, high on his face, and his nose, still crooked. Finally a shaking hand pressed against his lips, and then it was her lips on his.

For a moment, Hermione almost believed he was kissing her back. She drew away, the tears now flowing freely down her face.

“I’m sorry, Severus,” she whispered softly. “I’m so sorry I didn’t believe in you.”

And then Hermione Granger stood again, spelling the blood from her already-torn jeans, and harshly wiping away tear tracks. She took a single step backwards, away from the man she had loved, and took a single shuddering breath.

“Goodbye, Professor Snape,” she said formally. “I hope you find Lily, wherever you are.” She paused a moment, unsure whether to continue. “And I hope she loves you the way you could never love me.”

When Hermione met Ron and Harry later, she would break into sobs, mumbling about the terrible losses. Nobody ever suspected she mourned a lover, let alone a lover who had never loved her. But every year, Hermione visited the Shrieking Shack, and every day a fresh, white lily could be seen adorning the gravestone of Severus Snape.


End file.
